There’s a persistent belief that simply describing contemporary political figures in classical terms automatically furthers understanding; Trump is depicted as a Roman emperor, Johnson as Pericles, Cleon or Alcibades, as if this offers us vital clues to their personality or to the situation we’re in. I’m not referring to the passing comments or allusions – the endless evocation of Caligula supposedly making his horse a senator, whenever one or other of these modern autocrats makes an especially egregious appointment, for example – but to the longer-form discussions, the essays and op ed pieces, where the classical frame is clearly intended to illuminate (or at the least to indicate the illumination of the author; the audience may simply be expected to nod admiringly at their erudition).
A piece in the New Statesmen offers an especially baffling example: Helen Thompson explains Johnson’s glorious triumph as the product of his distinctive character.
His willingness to enter the realm of risk, his eagerness to trade his dignity, his indifference to conventional pieties and mundane detail all arise from that character, at the centre of which is his pagan energy.
Uh huh. Okay, I think we can all see the rejection of Christian morality and humanist ethics, but is it far to tarnish traditional polytheism with this association? It seems more like the sort of ‘paganism’ that ran through the creepier elements of mid-C20 magic and folklore into films that seized on the excuse to show lots of naked blondes indulging their carnal urges and burning passing authority figures. But Thompson insists on the classical connection even while admitting that Johnson shows little sign of adherence to any of their ethical or philosophical principles.
His is not a paganism drawn to classical stories of hubris and nemesis. He repudiates Ananke, the goddess of necessity whose net imposes unavoidable limits on gods as well as mortals. He is more a would-be Theseus…
Theseus? Thompson’s celebration of Johnson as a force of Id, unrestrained by any notions of altruism, reason or shame, that uniquely enables him to fulfill the Will of the People where everyone else has failed or not even tried, clearly owes a fair amount to Nietzsche in his wilder moments. Johnson could be portrayed in this register as a figure out of fairytale, as the uncontrollable exuberance of Good Honest Rural Folk bursting through the restraints imposed by the Puritans and Urban Intellectuals; yes, we do get the attempt to frustrate the Brexit vote being compared to the 1647 ban on Christmas festivities.
And yet we keep getting classical references instead. Could it be that Thompson too fears the consequences of this blond beast rampaging indefinitely, and resorts to the hopeful belief that nemesis will sooner or later be visited upon hubris?
The precariousness of Johnson’s search for political intensity will one day crash into those pagan gods of limits to whom he offers no sacrifices. Theseus becomes King of Athens. Then he roams. Driven to sail with the Argonauts in quest of the Golden Fleece and embark upon a forbidden descent into the underworld to abduct Persephone, Theseus loses his kingdom. He meets his death off a cliff, murdered by the ruler of the island where he is exiled. But to the classical pagan imagination no god, not even Ananke, rules alone. When the sixth-century Athenians wanted a mythical champion for their new democracy, they opted for the stories of Theseus, complete with their heroic deeds and terrible violations.
I honestly have no idea. Even if Johnson is definitively Theseus, this is just one of many ways of producing a Theseus story from the multiple and contradictory traditions, rather than the inevitable path of destiny. Leaving that aside, what is this supposed to mean? Johnson will make a mess of things, come to a sticky end and then in years to come be celebrated as a cultural hero?
One might suggest instead, with no less explanatory power, that he is a great hollow construction (partly self-constructed, I’ll grant you) into which people are busy stuffing the things they hate, in order to set off a giant conflagration that will ensure prosperity for the future.
Or – and this was my first thought – that the whole thing is based on a confusion of ‘pagan’ and ‘paigon’…
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